In the silence that followed, tears flowed down Ashley’s bandaged cheeks when she felt her dear friend’s hand go limp.
Even on his knees, Rini started wobbling and Mati had to grab him so he wouldn’t fall over.
Shawn bowed his head, and Liberty squeezed his hand tightly.
Sata snuggled against Boro and started crying softly.
Brother Chad sighed and rubbed his eyes.
Ilika reached for Kibi, and they held each other while watching for anyone else who needed their support.
Sarah knelt at the end of Jenny’s bed and reached out to stroke the motionless feet.
Doctor Kenneth came forward and the others made room. He silently took vital signs, looked at his watch, and returned to his place.
The nurse’s eyes continued to nearly bulge out of her head at what she had just witnessed.
A couple of hours later, in a small conference room with the door closed, Sister Rebecca and Brother Jacob both scanned the six crew members of the mysterious ship parked in one of their hangers.
“Generally, I don’t care for under-cover agents,” Rebecca said with stern eyes, looking right at Ilika.
“I understand,” Ilika said, feeling a bit like a guilty child.
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“They’re usually from some government agency, fishing for any taxes we haven’t paid, or anything else politically incorrect.”
Ilika
nodded.
“But considering where you’re from . . .” She stopped and grinned.
Ilika grinned back.
“We are honored to have someone from . . . what did you call it?”
Sata knew the answer. “We’re not allowed to use names you don’t already know.”
Ilika and Kibi both nodded.
Rebecca grinned again. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
The entire crew smiled.
“We are honored to have an angel’s helper — is that okay? — as a member of Lyceum.”
Ilika
nodded.
At that moment, a knock was heard.
“That will be one of two people I asked to join us,” Rebecca said as Jacob opened the door slightly.
“Come in, Brother Chad,” he said, pulling it open wider.
The audio technician entered a bit shyly, still feeling the loss of his favorite musician. He stood at the head of the table, fidgeting with a small box. “Um
. . . this contains all the voices of Jenny’s symphony, recorded separately, and the little bit of synchronizing we were able to do. I put it in several formats so hopefully you can read one of them.” He reached out with the box, but wasn’t sure who to give it to.
Ilika and Kibi looked at Sata.
Sata pointed to Rini.
Rini received the box like a great treasure.
Another soft knock was heard.
Jacob looked, and opened the door for Ashley. Although her bandages were fresh, her eyes remained red from crying.
“Although you will get as much time as you need to grieve,” Rebecca began, “as I understand it, no one in the world, including her mother, was closer to Jenny than you, Sister Ashley.”
Ashley squirmed, still not used to the title, and very unsure she deserved
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it.
“Since you cannot, at this time, follow your athletic profession, nor most of your work assignments, will you do us the honor of helping to plan Jenny’s funeral?”
Ashley nodded slowly and took a deep breath. “I’d go crazy if I didn’t find something to do. The hardest part . . . will be getting Jenny’s mom on a plane.
She’s . . . very large and . . . almost disabled. Maybe Sister Laura, a librarian there, can help. And I bet some of the nursing home staff will come . . .”
After a quiet meal in the cafeteria, Ilika and his crew made their way back to the Manessa Kwi.
Mati held Rini’s hand constantly, as he was so distracted by the music playing in his head, and whatever else he was seeing and hearing, that he could barely walk without stumbling and falling.
They all felt more comfortable when the hatch was closed. Rini managed to get into a chair at the big table, but couldn’t keep his feet from tapping and his head from swaying with the melodies and rhythms that filled his mind.
“I’m . . . curious . . .” Sata began with a sparkle in her eyes, looking at Ilika.
“How long have you known? The rest of us have been tearing out our hair . . .”
Ilika chuckled slightly. “Only about two minutes before I called Manessa, and most of that was spent getting back to Jenny’s room.”
“You’re forgiven,” the mission leader announced with a smile.
Ilika nodded his head in thanks, then spoke to the air. “Arantiloria, you have any thoughts on what needs to happen next?”
She materialized on the galley counter. “Sata knows.”
After a quick roll of her eyes, which the training specialist pretended not to see, Sata spoke. “We need to get Rini somewhere he can finish Jenny’s music.”
Ilika looked around the table. Rini was completely lost in his head, and Mati, at his side, appeared supportive but slightly annoyed. Boro was solid and ready for action, as always. Kibi looked back at her lover like a hungry cat, ready to pounce, only held back by the needs of the moment.
“Satamia?” Ilika questioned, looking at Arantiloria.
“Just as a transfer point, then he’ll go on to Kerusemia where the
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symphony will be prepared.”
Ilika raised his eyebrows. “Rini, you and Mati will get to see the local universe capital before the rest of the crew. It makes a star station look like a little supply dome.”
“What about . . . the rest of us?” Sata asked with concern.
“We’ll finish our business here, then arrive in time for the first performance. Kibi and Boro, please transport Rini and Mati to Satamia. You can be back by dinner time.”
Kibi thought. “Okay, Boro can cover helm and engineering, I can do the rest. We’ll be back before dinner time.”
Since Ilika was a member of Lyceum and the captain of the Manessa Kwi, the crew was invited to eat with the members for the remainder of their stay.
At the dinner table, Liberty looked back and forth from Ilika to Kibi, but was obviously happy with the way things had turned out. Shawn, at her side, was equally happy.
For the next several days, Ashley busied herself with the funeral planning.
Sister Laura made all the arrangements for getting Jenny’s mother to the funeral, and never told Ashley the expenses involved. Young Sister Sarah was at Ashley’s side almost constantly, helping the wounded gymnast in every way she could.
Ashley was amazed — and deeply bothered — that three hundred and forty people wanted to come to Jenny’s funeral, when the dying girl had rarely received a visitor in the nursing home, other than Ashley herself.
Sister Rachael listened to the young gymnast’s frustrations, and explained that it was often so with great artists.
Knowing that Rachael’s paintings hung in galleries and museums, Ashley was comforted that her deceased friend might now have the same status.
Ilika and his partial crew wrapped up the classes they were taking, and met each day to talk about the many things they had learned from the mission.
Kibi was especially glad to have her lover back in their cabin at night.
Ilika was glad to be back, too.
Upon arriving at Lyceum, Jenny’s mother was invited to speak at her
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daughter’s funeral. She immediately declined, but during breakfast on the day of the funeral, Sister Rachael overheard her mumbling to herself, seemingly pondering what words to say. Rachael quickly sent a message to Ashley to be ready for the possibility.
When the hour of the funeral arrived, most of the members of Lyceum, eight hospice center residents, eleven nurses and doctors from Jenny’s home town, twenty-seven random people who had somehow heard about it, four special visitors from far away, and one mother, all made their way solemnly to the Lyceum Temple.
As they came down the aisles and could see into the open casket, they beheld no sickly invalid, but a beautiful girl just approaching the flowering of her youth, with golden shoulder-length hair and a full pink dress with accents of white lace. Flowers were tucked in around her and many more filled vases nearby. Only one thing seemed strange — one of Jenny’s arms lay upon her chest, its hand empty.
As everyone found seats, Jenny’s mother looked around in confusion.
“Why are all these people here?”
“They all came to pay their respects to your daughter,” Sister Rachael said.
“Some knew her. Many have heard about her unfinished musical symphony.
We’re reserving time if you decide you’d like to speak . . .”
“Oh . . . no . . . I wouldn’t know what to say.”
A quiet passage from one of the voices of Jenny’s song opened the funeral, with the laughter of children at play superimposed. After a minute, the audio faded into the background, and a nurse from Jenny’s home town stood and spoke. She shared words of remembrance from her heart, and from several other nurses who could not attend.
A section of another musical voice preceded Brother Kenneth’s time. He talked about how she had been willing to take any medicine, as long as she could work on her music. He spoke of how the musical voices of her symphony became tangled in her mind, and how she fought it for several days, to get a little more work done, before finally giving up.
Another melody played as lasers created musical notes that danced on the edge of the casket and finally floated away, higher and higher, until they disappeared somewhere above the highest balcony of the temple. Brother
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Chad stood. He had much to say about the creative power the world had lost when Jenny passed away, and he invited the listeners to imagine the many beautiful symphonies that would have been written if Jenny had been able to stay with them. He ended by describing the presence that now haunted the music studio, a presence that, at least for him, would never be forgotten.
Everyone listened to the melody line of Ashley’s favorite part. The young gymnast finally had all her bandages off, but the scars that remained were visible to all, even with make-up. She talked about the things Jenny liked to do other than work on her music, such as take walks in any kind of weather, and watch any movie at least once.
When Ashley finished speaking, she seemed lost in thought for a moment, then blinked and took something small and slender from inside the podium.
She held up Jenny’s first instrument for all to see, a cheap penny whistle, then placed it in Jenny’s hand in the casket.
Tears started dripping down Ashley’s scarred cheeks, so she hurried up an aisle, but as she was passing the second row of seats, something made her stop. She looked around, and her eyes met two other very sad eyes. Not knowing why, her hand reached out, and the large lady stood, stumbled past Sister Rachael and others, and was soon standing in the aisle with Ashley, crying deeply and embracing the gymnast.
Somehow, through her own feelings, Ashley saw an opportunity and took it. She slowly guided the grieving mother to the podium. During the next ten minutes, neither spoke to the audience as the other speakers had, but rather shared with each other fond memories of Jenny. The grieving mother spoke of the unbearable quiet of her house after Jenny went to the nursing home.
The funeral guests perched on the edge of their seats, listening to the private and intimate conversation, and few faces remained dry.
Finally, they both fell silent, and Ashley guided the woman back to her seat.
Melodies from Jenny’s music played again, and Sister Sarah led several young ballet dancers, who pranced around Jenny’s casket even as bearers approached and lifted their burden.
Jenny’s mother slowly walked hand-in-hand with Sister Rachael toward the cemetery, and most of the other guests followed.
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Finally, after everyone else had left the temple, Ashley’s own feelings caught up with her, and she sank onto the floor and cried like a baby. A few moments later, she felt arms around her, and looked up to see Ilika, with Kibi, Boro, and Sata right behind him.